The Noah's Ark Affair
by RoseLight
Summary: Solo works on his trust issues with his original partner.


THE NOAH'S ARK AFFAIR

Act 1 Two by Two

As Napoleon Solo hustled down the corridor to his chief's office, he was vaguely curious that he had not yet intercepted his partner, Illya Kuryakin, on the way. He approached the blond agent's door and poked his head inside, only to find his counterpart concentrating on a glossy technical journal and a coconut cream doughnut.

"Aren't you invited to the party?" he inquired.

The Russian raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Looks like this time you're going stag...or dare I say, solo?"

The CEA muffled a half-yawn." If that's an example of what I can expect from you at..." he glanced at his watch, "8:22 AM, I'd rather sleep in."

Alexander Waverly, Number 1, Section 1, stared out the panoramic window of his office, his back to Solo, but perfectly aware of his entrance. "I presume you have luncheon plans, Mr. Solo."

"More of…eh...an orientation for new personnel, Sir."

"Well, break it. You'll be meeting a representative of Gideon Dallas at high noon."

"And since when does UNCLE jump at the summons of a thug like Mad Dog Dallas?" questioned Solo, perturbed at the change in his plans.

"The invitation came from Mrs. Dallas." Waverly waited for the significance of his news to sink in.

"Abby Fairfax?"

"Abby Fairfax Dallas," the boss emphasized. "Your original partner."

Solo's expression immediately closed off the turmoil in his head.

"No matter how you feel about the conclusion of your partnership, it was valuable," Waverly pontificated

"A valuable failure," Solo growled.

"We learned from it. UNCLE was a young organization, with lofty goals of global justice. We learned lessons of psychology, captivity, the capacity for sacrifice, motivation, even the art of partner selection. All these things improved our understanding, our effectiveness." The lecture was peculiar, as if Waverly were encouraging him to see the good in the painful situation from years ago. To let Solo know he understood the difficulty of facing his past again.

Solo remained unimpressed by this catalog of progress at his expense. "After all these years of sleeping with the enemy, isn't she rather compromised...Sir?" His tone was bitter

"Fairfax is still a trained agent. We don't know why she's chosen to surface now, but she contacted us through an old connection. If she is willing to risk a meeting after all this time, we are curious."

"So I'm supposed to show up?"

"Show up and be prepared for whatever. We are not setting the agenda here," Waverly warned.

Act 2 Shotgun Wedding

Solo stalked down the corridor back to his office, more slowly this time. Halting outside Kuryakin's door, he paused deliberately before knocking.

"Come," invited the reliable voice of his partner. Solo slouched into a chair across from Kuryakin's desk, and just sat, silent. Kuryakin continued his work, knowing enough to wait for the explanation.

"You know you're not my first partner."

The Russian did not look up. "The rumor is their bones are buried beneath Archives."

"Her name was Abby Fairfax..."

The pairing of Officer Abby Fairfax and Agent Napoleon Solo was experimental, like most things in the young organization. She was not an UNCLE agent-the first female to cross that bridge was just starting middle school-but at that point there was a closer inter-agency cooperation, and she was a skilled and decorated operative of another group.

"We were principled and passionate about our work," Solo remembered. " Had a couple successful missions breaking up international mischief. And then, Gideon Dallas."

Illya's face was thoughtful. "I don't recognize the name..."

"He was nothing then, just a punk in middle-mob-management. But he had ambition, and brains, and we wanted to shut him down before he achieved his full potential. He developed an obsession for my partner. It complicated things. She tried to use it against him, but he's a clever slug. He snatched both of us, separated us so we couldn't encourage each other, couldn't focus on joint escape plans. We were still so inexperienced, as agents, as partners..." It was part truth, part rationalization. "I was treated to the traditional beatings, dark basement, basic deprivation. I didn't know what was happening to Abby, and that was worse."

Then Dallas cooked up a diabolical scheme: a new twist on a shotgun wedding. He would flaunt the law by embracing it. He promised to release Solo, free of harm, once Abby married him. Solo would appear as best man, honored guest, and witness to his partner's betrayal.

"I'll find a way, Abby! You don't have to do this!-" he shot off before the traditional gorilla punctuated his jaw.

"Of course I will-I do-!" fully believing that her partner's fate was in her hands, recklessly hopeful that once Solo was free, she'd make her escape. Their eyes fixated on each other throughout the brief ceremony, exchanging fury at the circumstance, and hope in each other's ability.

Abby insisted that she watch Solo reclaim his freedom. He ran down the road, then he hesitated, turned back to see her tugged closely to Dallas's side. "It was the last time I saw her. Waverly wouldn't order me back. I made several attempts on my own; failed. But she never got away. I don't know if she gave up, or joined up." He shook his head, as if to clear the past from his brain. "Now you're more likely to read about Mad Dog Dallas on the society page than on a police blotter. Mingles with CEOs, politicians. Corruption loves company."

"That's probably why I don't recognize him," Illya mused." Not really into high society hijinks, y'know. Socialist training and all that..."

Act 3 Quid Pro Quo

The woman who waited for him at the table was more shadow than substance from his past. Her once luminous skin was translucent now; her slender frame reduced to thin; the sparkling eyes glazed with fear and dread; and her voice-that elegant, spirited voice-flat.

"Hello, Napoleon."

"How could you?" he greeted her, low and contemptuous.

"Save your life? How could I not?"

"Then why did you stay?"

"I thought that if you were alive, you'd come back for me. I understood I was expendable to the agencies. I just didn't know I was expendable to my partner."

Her veiled accusation stoked his ego. "Hey, at least I tried. I tried to set something up, but you never answered any of my messages. I thought you were dead-or worse."

"I never got any word from you. And you thought—you thought I crossed over?" His misunderstanding sparked the old spirit he remembered. "That I repudiated everything we believed in and worked for?" She bowed low, shaking her head. "Partners," she whispered with irony. "I had to get you away, to keep you safe."

"Safe!" he spat. "There used to be a lot more to our lives than 'safe.' There was honor and passion and justice and -"

"All right!" she hissed. "So I screwed up your macho code. At least you're alive to express your contempt. I do not regret that. I can't regret it, Napoleon. It was all I had, to believe you were breathing somewhere in the world. Some days it was the only reason I got up in the morning. And some nights-" she shuddered-" it was all I had to hold on to when I'd hear his footsteps stop outside my door."

Solo was still not convinced. "Well, that 'life' you bought me , that life has not been the same without you. And you let him-"

"He didn't do anything to me," her voice lacked all inflection. "He was doing it to you. Punishing, humiliating, always a triumph over you. I was just the instrument." She closed her eyes momentarily to regain focus on her mission. "Napoleon, I have a son."

"I don't follow the society columns."

"His name is Noah, because I mean for him to survive." She sensed her plight was not affecting the man she once knew. "Yknow, I vomited everyday I was pregnant."

"Lots of women-"

"It wasn't hormonal-it was revulsion. Finally they put IV's in, and I ripped them out." For the first time he took her hand, and his eyes followed the long, jagged, deep scar that ran up the inside of her arm.

"Those are not IV marks," he said quietly.

"No." She pulled her arm back. "Another escape attempt. You see, I wasn't very good at it."

"God, Abby. I'm sorry." The paltry words were inadequate to express his feelings, but she understood and accepted his offering. "At least his doctors could've done a better job—" he muttered.

"That was his order. Leave it as ugly as possible. So I would remember. So no man would want a woman branded unbalanced."

"And now..."

"Now I need your help, Napoleon. I want you to be Noah's ark-his refuge, a safe passage to a new life. Years ago I couldn't put you at risk. But now I'm asking for him, and any risk is worth it. Please save my son."

She was crumbled before him, and he felt it was his fault, as much as Dallas's; they had contrived to bring her to this humbling place, by their pride and arrogance.

"I'll get you both out," he vowed.

She shook her head. "If you can just manage Noah. It's important, Napoleon. Gideon treats him like another plaything, a symbol of your failure. Lately he's gotten the crazy notion that Noah is your son, and I don't know how much longer I can protect him."

He evaluated her critically. "You don't have the strength to protect yourself."

"Here-" she began to stuff his pockets. "Temporary guardianship, passport, school ID, medical records-"

"Whoa, whoa. Waverly is going to require something in good faith. After all, you contacted a professional organization for services."

Abby stopped cold. "Quid pro quo . What's the going rate for a child's life? Some tawdry tidbits of political gossip?"

"It's been seven years. You must have learned something..."

"It's been my life. Maybe I don't want it debriefed and filed. God, Napoleon, you've grown so -. You'd negotiate for my child..." and she slumped as if the last hope drained from her. Abby concentrated on several deep breaths before she made the proposal. " How about the red book?"

"It's not a rumor?"

"It's prime blackmail material. Dates and bribes, names, projects, budgets-"

"How can you get that?"

"Does it matter to you?" she posed sharply. "It's your price for Noah's freedom. I'll get it."

Act 4 Déjà Vu

Abby cut the rendezvous off abruptly when she spotted Dallas's man, the 'bodyguard' who tailed her 'for her own protection.' She knew Dallas had her followed, and Dallas knew that she knew. It was an intimidating game that she expected, and after the years of captivity, it wore on her nerves. "Home, James," she surrendered to the uniformed thug, settled in the back seat of the sedan and puzzled over her reaction to Solo.

After all, it had been her own choice to play along with the wedding game. Solo was her partner-he was in danger and it was within her power to get him free. But then, was it not his responsibility to attempt to return and rescue her? She had trusted in him for days and nights and weeks, and finally felt herself abandoned. Why was she willing now to entrust the most important thing in her life to this man? How had hope and faith replaced bitterness, betrayal and despair? Only through Noah.

When she discovered her pregnancy, Abby was horrified and distraught. Dallas, his prominence in the underground crime world growing, strutted and crowed. She did not want the child of this-this misalliance. But how that baby changed her world. His tiny life restored Abby's strength and energy and determination. Once again she had something to live for, someone to fight for. At first she stayed with Dallas because of his threats to Solo. Then she stayed to protect Noah. Now it was time for action.

Illya Kuryakin studied her detailed kidnapping plan, impressed. "It's good..." he nodded.

Solo remembered expressing the same thought and Abby, in an eerie echo of Waverly's endorsement replied "I'm still a trained agent, you know." It was a plan of hide-in-plain-sight. Dallas was hosting an elaborate dinner at his estate. There would be heavy security, but they would be concentrating on people coming in, not people going out. Abby enclosed a map of the house and grounds, with security posts marked and the guards' rounds clocked. She even provided a precise timeline for the action. "And where will you be?" Napoleon had asked.

"Where I'm expected. South end of the table. The congenial hostess in the red velvet smile"

"So excuse yourself."

"I can't improvise this. I won't play games with Noah. I have my part to play, to create an ordinary evening, to arouse no suspicion."

"Don't expect me to leave you behind."

"Again?"

That word, the choices that had haunted them both, finally spoken aloud, suspended in the air between them . Solo changed strategy.

"And what happens when he finds out you've double-crossed him?"

Abby didn't dwell on her future.

The mingling and martini portion of the evening was winding down. Dallas made his usual show of taking Abby's arm to lead her into the formal dining room. Suddenly she stiffened. "I forgot to kiss Noah good-night," she whispered.

"You spoil that kid," he growled in her ear. Then to the guests he announced, "Folks, let's all get seated. My wife has some mothering to do and she'll be along shortly to join us at this fabulous table, right, Darling?"

"Wouldn't miss it," she flashed a radiant smile and twisted out of his grasp.

Epilogue

"Mother and son safely settled ?" Kuryakin asked impersonally, to finish his report of the incident.

"Yeah. When it came right down to it, she couldn't let the boy go alone. Her former employer was delighted to get her back. Arranged for a new identity, and got seven years of intimate mob info."

"And we got the red book. A satisfactory conclusion all around?" Illya could not help wondering about the guilt Solo had carried around for years.

" Illya..." Solo began, uncertain as how to express himself, " she was my first partner, and I failed her. But I've learned a lot since then..."

Kuryakin glimpsed the complexity of a man most saw as sophisticated and cavalier. "I trust you, Napoleon, " he said simply. "You're my partner."

finis


End file.
